Well, well, well…

You may have noticed a gaping hole in your life, unrelated to the downward spiral of everything falling apart around you. It’s true; we’ve been sorely lacking in content these past few weeks. Lacking so sorely, in fact, that it was down next to nothing. Right next to nothing. So close to nothing it might as well have been nothing. Because it was.

But as the summer months have rolled from July to August with swift, terrible oppression, the weather has finally broken; the veil has been lifted. Yes, it is indeed true, folks: Brett Myers is back in Philadelphia.

And so are we. Maybe not physically, or at least permanently, in a 24/7/365 sense, but our consciousness is back on the vibrant Philly scene, just in time for the baseball stretch run, Kevin Kolb’s first season as starter and Flyers training camp. And Doug Collins. And Red Bull Flugtag.

Maybe all that was needed was a hair-pulling incident or a black eye from having a catch with a kid. Maybe none of that matters at all. The fact is, as Brett Myers takes the mound tonight at Citizens Bank Park, you can rest easy knowing Philly Fan Complex is back on the scene, Philadelphia business privilege taxes be damned. And that Sam Carchidi will not be there to pick a fight with Jacksonville’s second most famous native son (behind Fred Durst, of course):

“How do you spell ‘retard’?”

Fortunately, Carchidi has a foil on his current beat with the Flyers, one captain Mike Richards.

(PFC legal team note: Philly Fan Complex resides outside the limits of The City of Philadelphia, and therefore will not be ensnared in this vicious revenue scheme. You’ll just have to settle for the parking tickets.)

In honor of the NBA Finals, we present to you quite possibly one of the greatest basketball songs/music videos ever created. The video has it all: karate moves, slammin’ dunks, jumbo hot dogs, fat guys dancing, and most importantly, soulful lyrics that would make James Brown dance around in his grave. Enjoy!

Shortly after bouncing LeBron James and the Cleveland Cavaliers from the playoffs and sparking mass panic along the shores of Lake Erie, Rasheed Wallace of the Boston Celtics addressed the assembled media in front of his locker.

Boston fans were still riding high from their six-game series win over the Cavs, but Philly-native Rasheed couldn’t resist the opportunity to remind those same fans of the impending fate of their hockey team—and who exactly would deal the death blow.

Who knew Rasheed was a Flyers fan—he doesn’t exactly strike you as a hockey guy—but it’s good to see a Philadelphia guy staying true in enemy territory.

Always remember to treat your mother right…

Do us a favor and thank your mother for all she has done for you. Happy Mother’s Day!

Hello.

We are glad to be back with you at Philly Fan Complex. As you may have noticed over the past two weeks, our content has been lacking. By lacking, we mean nonexistent. Again, this is something you may or may not have noticed in your thrice-hourly visits to our site, but we figured enough of you had noticed that it should be addressed.

If one were to explain the gaping hole left in the Philadelphia sports community by our seemingly sudden and tragic fall from the media landscape, then one should file it under the “Blowing Off Steam” category. Commonly this is known as “Vacation”, or “Temporary Lapse in Sanity”, but this can be accurately chalked up to the seductive lure of greenbacks, distilled spirits and a general longing for sun, water and lounging.

You the reader have made this a profitable venture. Exclusive Swiss banks hound us around the clock, begging for our capital. Rather than stash it, however, we figured the only proper thing to do would be to enjoy it, a small portion at a time. Read: all at once.

Pure and simple, the money went to our heads. We thought there was nothing to do but take off immediately for the nearest private tropical island, gobble up all the available real estate and build private vacation homes for our dearest 50 friends and acquaintances, in which we would whittle away our days drenched in pure agave tequila and shriveling like a raisin in the sun. Don’t ever let someone tell you money doesn’t go to your head. (Except you, Ryan Howard.)

And on a related note, don’t let anyone tell you that money is infinite (Especially you, Lenny Dykstra). Our venture into a lifelong vacation was abruptly cut short at 12 days by the minor hiccup of account overdraft. So we fled, like Ambien zombie Tiger, back to the cruel yet merciful mistress known as the Philly Fan Complex.

In short, that explains where we’ve gone and where we’ve been. But now we’re back, baby, and as Andy Reid always says: “Donovan will be our starting quarterback.” Whoops.

Time’s yours.

Last week, we compiled the best parodies of the NHL’s Stanley Cup playoffs commercials.

With Nike’s bizarre Tiger Woods/Earl Woods one-sided dialogue commercial that we can’t help but feel Donald Draper was involved in spurring the next great wave of re-dubbed advertising, we now present the best in “Tiger Woods staring at the camera in black and white”:

Dee Snider certainly approves

Earl Woods, starring Morgan Freeman

The only thing worse?

Maury: “Tiger, you are the father!” (more…)